


Penitence

by edenlyte



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Execution, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Oops, Witch!Kaoru, witch trial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenlyte/pseuds/edenlyte
Summary: Frustrated and still hurting, unwilling to play Kaoru’s games any longer, he turned his back on Kaoru and crossed the room. He was stopped in the doorway when a small voice called, “Kyou?”He didn’t leave, but he didn’t say anything, either. When Kaoru realized that he did not intend to, he said, “It wasn’t magic. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Relationships: Hitachiin Kaoru/Ootori Kyouya
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	Penitence

The sight before him was one he had never wished to see.

Kaoru had been losing weight rapidly before his incarceration, even with the absurdly large quantity of food he would eat, but now the young man was naught more than a ghost. Ginger hair had lost its healthy sheen, unblemished skin now gray and clinging to protruding bones, amber eyes devoid of hope and staring blankly at the corner of the musty cell. Most prisoners likely looked the same, especially when housed in rough conditions such as these, but that fact did not ease the aching in his heart. 

No, he told himself, this was right. This was what the law called for, and as the youngest son of the king, Kyouya could not make exceptions to that. Kaoru’s trial had been fair, albeit unproductive and infuriating to watch. The prideful man had refused to say anything besides a simple, “Not guilty.” For charges of witchcraft, that simply would not save anyone.

He was the unknown in the small town of Miyagi, having only moved there four years ago. He’d established himself as a tailor, but he had made his start by mending and doing laundry for the farmer’s wives and young mothers who were too occupied to do the chores themselves. From there, he’d launched a rapidly successful business, one so successful that it had drawn Kyouya to the town. As the third prince, he had much more freedom than his older brothers, Yuuichi and Akito, and therefore had been able to come see what the fuss had been about. 

On the day that they had met, Kaoru had been seated at a loom in his store, working the piece of machinery with an expertise that was odd for one so young-- he had been eighteen at the time, Kyouya nineteen. Yet the cloth was perfect, without a single flaw, and the garments he made with his cloth were just as perfect. That had raised some suspicion among the people but had been dismissed upon hearing the story of how his parents had taught him from a young age. 

Kaoru had caught his attention immediately. He moved with an odd grace that was rarely found in men, and paired with his slender frame and sharp wits, Kyouya was entranced. The two had first become friends, and then more. They kept it secret, of course; Kyouya was a prince and Kaoru was a tailor in a small town. The few against his father’s reign would have celebrated for days on end. 

Ambitious was what Kaoru had called him one day upon hearing how Kyouya wished to take his father’s crown in the stead of his brothers. Foolish was what Kaoru had called him when the soldiers had come to arrest him. 

Charges of witchcraft were not to be taken lightly. Consorting with the devil, using magic to manipulate the very world they lived in and the people around them, even making one fall in love with them-- a witch was someone to be feared. Their power was endless.

Tamaki had been the one to tell him. The priest had found him on the road to Miyagi, and he had told him everything. He’d refused the claims at first, but the more Tamaki spoke, the more it made sense in his mind. Kaoru’s flawless work, his knowledge of the arts and history being on par with Kyouya’s, even their relationship, it all came back to witchcraft. He’d shaken the feelings off for years, determining Kaoru’s companionship to be more important than what he had deemed impossible, but now-- now, there was no doubt in his mind.

There shouldn’t be, at least.

Kaoru hadn’t fought when the soldiers had come for him. Not physically, that is. The man’s tongue had been quick to go on the offensive, lashing out at Kyouya more than the soldiers who were shackling him. His words still rang through Kyouya’s mind, haunting his dreams in the days since the arrest.

The deal had been simple: lure Kaoru to a clearing where the soldiers would be waiting to take him in, be free to go on his way. Kaoru had seemed ignorant of what was going on until he stepped into the clearing, where the soldiers immediately surrounded him. To Kyouya’s surprise, Kaoru had thrown back his head and laughed rather than struggle. His words were sharp, as was his glare, but he made no move to fight. Surely one with abilities such as the ones Kaoru was charged with would be more than capable of freeing himself and escaping, or so he kept telling himself. 

A quiet rustling snapped his attention back to Kaoru. He stepped forwards instinctively, one hand wrapping around a cold metal bar and the other reaching out to the younger man. Kaoru pushed himself upright awkwardly, both his hands and wrists bound with heavy shackles. Kyouya wasn’t given the slightest glance.

“Kaoru,” Kyouya said quietly. No response. Again, he hissed, “Kaoru.”

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” Kaoru drawled, his dull eyes holding the slightest spark of anger. “I would bow, but I fear that I can’t move without drawing the guards, and I would hate to disturb them from their well-earned rest.”

He had to hold back a snort. It was true, the guards were asleep, passed out cold from the ale they had consumed earlier. Their lack of ability to hold their liquor had been how Kyouya had gotten in without his own guards being forced to interfere.

“Be serious,” Kyouya instructed, voice cold and guarded. He wouldn’t let anything he might have believed he felt for Kaoru leak into his tone. “Is it true?”

“Are you asking me if I’m a witch, Your Highness?” Kaoru gasped, attempting to bring his hands to his mouth but being stopped by the chains. He settled for clasping his hands against his chest, the picture of innocence. “Certainly the palace tutors teach better manners than that!”

“Kaoru.”

Kaoru shrugged and turned away, joking demeanor gone. His thin shoulders slumped and his head fell against the stone wall with a quiet thump. The shackles around his ankles shifted the slightest bit and Kyouya could see the edge of an angry red mark under them.

Frustrated and still hurting, unwilling to play Kaoru’s games any longer, he turned his back on Kaoru and crossed the room. He was stopped in the doorway when a small voice called, “Kyou?”

He didn’t leave, but he didn’t say anything, either. When Kaoru realized that he did not intend to, he said, “It wasn’t magic. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Eyes stinging with unshed tears, he left the small prison. The town magistrate had found Kaoru guilty, and as with all charges of witchcraft, the punishment was execution. The amber-eyed man was to be killed in two days, and nothing could change that now.

\---

Watching Kyouya’s carriage drive away through the small window in his cell, Kaoru laughed. He didn’t care how insane he sounded anymore, he knew that he was going to die soon. Even if the trial had been fair and not based off of fear and rumors, he would’ve died in the next few weeks anyways. He was dying, slowly being killed by the magic harbored inside of him. The decision to not use his power had been his own, and he was facing the consequences from it now. The seasons he had spent with Kyouya had been the best of his life, despite the pain. 

It burned, the magic, and the pain was never ending. If he neglected it like he had, left it unused and trapped inside of him, it would spread through his veins and eat away at him from inside. He was fully aware that no matter how much he ate, all of the fat in his body was gone and the magic would keep eating away until there was nothing left of him but the dust of his bones. 

Now, sitting in this prison cell, with the disgustingly heavy chains restricting his movements and the magic still eating away at his body, he regretted the decision he had made. He should have left this town when he was able to and moved on, not been dumb enough to fall for a prince and been so clouded by his feelings-- the very thing he had been told to never allow to cloud his judgement-- to stop using his magic. What he had told Kyouya was true, there was no magic involved in their relationship. Kyouya could live with that fact, knowing that the key piece of evidence against him was a lie. He wouldn’t sink low enough to use his power for something like that. His brother probably would have, honestly, but he wouldn’t. Not wouldn’t, couldn’t-- the oath he’d sworn when he had turned 10 prevented that.

That willingness to use his powers had been what had gotten his older twin killed. Hanged in front of every citizen of the country they were born in. Kaoru was more cautious, only using his magic for the small things. He would cook with magic, and weave or sew or do laundry with it, but he never tampered with human beings. Not after Hikaru had been caught. It was too risky, in his opinion, and he had been right.

But then he thought about it and realized that he had nothing left to lose. He was dying either way, and Kyouya was gone, his family was long dead, and his execution was in two days. He could use his power to escape, but that would likely not go well. Archers and soldiers patrolled the area, and he could not simply disappear and reappear somewhere far away. That was one of the things he could never do; it messed with the fabric of the universe far too much. 

There was nothing he could do. He deserved this, after all; he’d lost count of the lives he had taken long ago. The bandits who had killed his father, the rapists who had tried to touch his mother, and countless others. Now, when he was about to meet his end, he could not remember why he had killed so many of them. Was it simply because he could? Because he had power and they did not? 

When had he stopped thinking like that? Was it when he had met Kyouya? Kyouya, who had everything he could have ever wanted, yet still hungered for more? Kyouya, who could make Kaoru forget about the burden he carried just by smiling?  
He closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

\---

The day of the execution was a warm, sunny day, not too humid but not too dry, with no clouds in sight. The sky was a pale, robin’s egg blue above the town of Miyagi, and with his father on one side and his brothers on the other, Kyouya could not be more miserable.

His family was dressed richly, as always, and glittered with jewelry. In contrast, Kyouya had dressed plainly, in a dark grey tunic, black shirt, and dark breeches tucked into a pair of sturdy boots. The only jewels he wore were a sapphire drop in his ear and the rings he always wore, a total of six: one for each of his three siblings, two for his parents, and one on his thumb for himself. He stuck out like a sore thumb and he knew it, although he could not bring himself to care.

The bright colors around them, the food vendors calling out offers for fresh-baked sweets and chilled liquor, the happy children dragging their parents around the town square, it all sickened him. These people were celebrating the fact that they were taking someone’s life-- even if he hadn’t known Kaoru, he would have found it wrong.

Burning was supposed to be the most painful form of execution, and yet these people were celebrating that they were about to subject another human to that pain and anguish. Truly, the idiocy of people always made him shake his head in wonder. How did they live such carefree lives, knowing that they were killing a man today?

The crowd stilled. Kyouya only needed to follow the people’s eyes to see what had stopped their celebrations: two soldiers had come out of the prison, Kaoru held between them.

He had lost even more weight in the last two days, if that was possible, but perhaps it was just the way his ragged and dirty clothes hung off of his frame. Yet in spite of all of the eyes watching him, his head was held high, and his amber eyes were set straight ahead. He showed no sign of fear or hesitation, and were it not for the shackles around his ankles and wrists, he would not look like a prisoner. 

Kaoru carried himself like a king. He carried himself like he possessed true power, despite the chains binding his movements. When the soldiers dragged him to a stop in front of the platform Kyouya sat on with his family, Kaoru stared boldly ahead, meeting the eyes of Kyouya’s father squarely.

Yoshio Ootori, king for almost thirty years now, was what many called a natural ruler. He ruled with an iron fist, yet a fair one, making sure that all of his people were fed and as healthy as could be without losing the favor of his nobles. He would make appearances in public if the matter was one of importance, like today was. Yet for all of the command he wore like a second skin, Kaoru had him beaten.

Yoshio stood, cloak gathering artfully around him. Kyouya’s shoulders tensed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Kaoru’s gaze was proud, sparking with anger despite his frail frame.

He was expecting his father to demand a bow. Yoshio was strict and held custom in high respect, requiring his children to address him with formal titles when not in private-- then, perhaps, would they be permitted to refer to him as ‘Father’ or ‘Sir’. 

The crowd’s whispers dissipated as the king and the prisoner held each other’s gaze, no one daring to make the slightest noise. A part of him was waiting for Kaoru to laugh and sweep a bow, but the fluttering laugh never came. It was his father who broke the silence, stony voice grim.

“Tell me, boy, how old are you?”

Kyouya could have told him that Kaoru was twenty-two, a year younger than he was. 

Kaoru’s eyes glinted. “Asking your elder for his age, Sire? My, my, how those manners have slipped since I last paid court a visit.”

To say that he was not expecting that would be what his nursemaid had called an understatement.

“My apologies.” Yoshio smiled, but his expression was far from warm and welcoming. “May I, perchance, ask of your relationship with my son?”

Kaoru snickered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Akito rose, crossing the dais and descending the staircase to slap the foolhardy, insolent, death-desiring idiot across the face. The guards took the hint and pulled Kaoru away, bowing and stammering apologies to all four of them before hauling their prisoner away.

Kaoru, too, got the hint. He fell silent, only looking back once to meet Kyouya’s eyes with a mournful look that made his blood run cold.

His leg bounced, the only sign of his unsettlement. Kaoru wasn’t looking at him now as he was led up a set of stairs to the wooden stake constructed on top of a platform heaped with the makings for a fire. A few whispers passed through the crowd but no one called out or spoke with the same joy they had possessed before Kaoru had been brought out.

He forced his leg to still despite his unease. The soldiers were unshackling Kaoru’s ankles and wrists, replacing the chains with thick ropes that held his arms tightly in place behind the pole. His ankles were tied just above a small wooden ledge lashed onto the wooden stake. Kaoru’s head was held high defiantly, his gaze alone challenging any member of the hushed crowd to speak out. A silence had fallen over the town again, and it did not seem that it would lift any time soon.

“Kyouya, are you ill?”

His eyes darted to Akito. The second-oldest of his siblings, Akito was a prideful man, finding every opportunity to pick at Kyouya’s actions. When Yoshio had announced that all four of them would be attending the execution, Akito had been almost gleeful, reminding Kyouya that they could witness the punishment for the man who had ‘led him astray’.

Oh, how he despised his brother.

“Just anxious for this to be over with,” Kyouya murmured, looking back at Kaoru. The younger’s harsh gaze had been focused on seemingly no one, making him equally glad and angry. Glad because he did not think he could bear if Kaoru gave him such a grief-filled look as he had before but angry because he wanted Kaoru to act like he grasped the magnitude of what was happening. He was going to die, and he was foolish enough to challenge the king’s authority? Now, of all times?

“Oh, that’s right, once the witch is dead, you should be released from that concubine’s spell,” Akito chirped happily. “I was quite concerned when you did not seem to be released with the arrest, so hopefully this will do the trick. It would be a terrible shame if you were removed from the running for the throne, you know?”

“Enough, Akito,” Yoshio ordered. Akito bowed his head and murmured an apology; there was nothing any of them feared more than their father’s disfavor.

Kyouya settled back in his seat, mindful to keep his leg from bouncing again. Instead, his fingers clenched around the jeweled arms of the throne. His rings dug into his fingers, doubtlessly leaving red marks that would swell when he removed the gold bands. 

A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed slightly, almost reassuringly. Kyouya looked up, shocked to see Yoshio giving him a small smile. “This will all be over soon,” his father promised, the most father-like he had been since Kyouya was a small child. Kyouya forced himself to return what he hoped was not as much of a grimace as he felt like giving and fixed his gaze on his hands, willing them to stay still.

Yoshio fell quiet, his hand still on Kyouya’s shoulder. He could feel his father’s rings pressing into his skin slightly. The tension in the older man’s body was unmistakable.

“Do you think he is guilty?”

The eyes of all three princes were on Yoshio instantly. Their father stared straight ahead, his steely grey eyes fixed on Kaoru’s thin form. Kyouya knew well that the only times he or his brothers were asked for their opinions were when they were being tested. Yoshio had no need for his sons’ opinions unless he was curious to hear their thoughts. Unless they truly impressed him, their words were not taken into consideration.

“There is no doubt about it,” Akito scoffed. “Look at him, he knows that he will die yet he is utterly unafraid.”

That was far from true. Kyouya knew that look in Kaoru’s eyes, he knew the trembling of his fingers was not from the lashings being too tight. Kaoru was scared, and the way his lips moved rapidly, murmuring something, only proved it.

“Yuuichi?”

“I agree with Akito.” 

Yoshio took in a deep breath and let go of Kyouya’s shoulder. “Go to him, boy,” he said briskly. Kyouya gaped up at the man, his brothers’ shock as evident as his own. Yoshio met his gaze with a glare and snapped, “Well? Do you care about the insolent thing or not?”

He didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet instantly, giving his father a curt bow before leaving the stage. His normal trio of guards were with him in an instant, shoving people out of the way as he marched straight through the crowd, dark eyes fixed on Kaoru.

He stood at the base of the platform, staring up at Kaoru. Aijima and Hotta were keeping the crowd at bay while Tachibana kept to his place directly behind Kyouya. Kaoru, bound as he was, had been deemed not a threat to Kyouya’s safety. 

“Kaoru,” he called, his hands flat against a long, thin log propped up against the platform. Kaoru looked down at him, shock flitting across his sunken features before his facade broke. Tears dripped from red, puffy eyes as the young man whispered his name again and again, voice cracking and trembling more than his hands did.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do it,” Kaoru whimpered. “I didn’t do anything to you, Kyouya, or anyone, I swear, I didn’t, I wouldn’t do that, I swear, Kyou, please--”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know, Kaoru.”

Kaoru fell silent, his eyes roaming across the crowd. His demeanor changed, his shoulders rising out of their slump and his jaw setting firmly. His gaze hardened, becoming cold and powerful, almost like Yoshio’s. Like a man who knew his strength and how to use it.

“It has been so long since I actually had to fear for my life,” he sighed. “I’ve watched people wither away and die. I’ve watched empires rise, only to come crashing down into a pile of rubble, and I’ve known that I hold the key to bringing this one down, too. Well, no. You hold it.”

“And it is?”

Kaoru snickered. Actually snickered, like a child who had a secret. “Not telling,” he sang, his voice suddenly light and playful. The younger-- or was he, in fact, older? Things did not quite line up in Kyouya’s mind anymore-- man swept his gaze out over the crowd. After a few moments of silence, he ordered icily, “Get close to your guard. Now.”  
Something about his tone made Kyouya instinctively obey. He took a step back, pressing his back against Tachibana’s, and followed Kaoru’s gaze to the cloaked figure at the edge of the crowd.

The man’s hood was pushed back, revealing fluffy gold curls and violet eyes. It was only Tamaki, Kyouya thought. The priest was harmless, and he was Kyouya’s friend.

But could he really trust someone who surveyed the crowd with such cold, lifeless eyes?

Kaoru’s laugh filled the air, louder than was natural, and the way everyone in the square stiffened made it clear that everyone had heard. Tamaki was silent as Kaoru called, “Here to finish the job, René?”

René?

There was a flash of silver light and Kyouya wheeled around, following the flash to see his father fall from his seat and hit the ground, a red stain blooming across his pale green tunic.

No.

“Your Highness, stay back,” Tachibana ordered. His guard grabbed him around the arm, hauling him back towards Kaoru, his duty to keep Kyouya alive overriding his duty to keep Kyouya satisfied. He was shoved backwards until his back was pressed against the platform and Tachibana stood in front of him. Aijima and Hotta fell into place on either side of the senior guard, forming a protective barrier around him. He couldn’t see over them, the guards being just slightly taller than he was.

Was his father dead? Dying? Was Yuuichi injured as well? Or Akito?

What had even happened?

The crowd was chaotic. People were screaming, men gathering their wives and children and trying to escape the town square, all the while creating even more of a mess. Carts and tables were overthrown, the goods only adding to the disaster. Guards had encircled the royal family, and while Kyouya wanted nothing more than to join them, it was plain to see that he would never get through the mob.

“Kyouya!”

He turned to face Kaoru, panic seizing his mouth and forcing out words that, under normal circumstances, he never would have dared to voice.

“Was this your doing?” he demanded. 

“No, I would never, you know that!”

“Do I really?” he bit out. Kaoru turned a shade paler; his swollen eyes widened. After a moment, he shook his head.

“No,” he said softly, “you don’t. But Kyou, I swear, it wasn’t me. I would never hurt yo--- watch out!”

Kyouya spun around just as another silver flash appeared, immediately followed by a burst of excruciating pain in his leg. He staggered, leaning heavily against the platform, using all of his strength to keep him upright. Kaoru’s voice, crying out concern, was muted by the rushing in his ears. He was dimly aware of Aijima forcing him to sit, half covered by the platform and well out of the way, but his mind was vacant, focused only on the pain.

It burned like nothing he had ever felt before. He could see the blood spilling from his thigh, but the pain was spreading, squeezing his stomach and stabbing at his lungs until he could hardly breathe. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, could only gasp for air, for a way to--

And then a blessed cool spread over him like a wave, and when it gently pulled away, the pain was gone.

Kaoru knelt over him, a hand gently pressed to his own. Confused, he peered up at his former lover, torn between asking what had happened and how he had gotten free.

“I’m going to end this,” Kaoru whispered, cutting Kyouya off before he could think to ask any questions. “I’m sorry, Kyou, for everything. I should’ve told you the truth all along.”

Chapped lips pressed a chaste kiss to his temple. Kaoru stood and stalked away, moving with the slightest limp and pushing through a crowd that was somehow standing still.

The fighting hadn’t stopped-- rather, it looked like everybody had frozen in place. In the distance, he could vaguely make out Kaoru’s red hair, bobbing around the frozen townspeople as he approached the dais where a circle of people had frozen around the king.

What had happened? How had it happened? Looking around, he realized that his trio of guards had frozen as well. With a mumbled apology, he reached up and grabbed Hotta by the leg, using the man as a crutch to pull himself to a standing position once again. Gingerly, he put weight on his leg, only to pause.

There was no pain. None. His breeches were torn and stained with blood, but underneath the tear lay a pale pink scar, not the fresh wound he had expected to find.

Had Kaoru… healed him? But how? Was that even possible?

It must be. There was no other explanation.

And that meant that Kaoru could heal the king, too.

His determination renewed, he began to push through the crowd, heading towards that flash of red hair. 

\---

Kaoru found René on the path out of town. The blonde had shed his robe and stood in a shirt and breeches, blocking the path. His pretense of being a priest, there to oversee the execution had vanished; now he stared at Kaoru with nothing less than boiling rage.

“I figured you would show yourself eventually,” the man remarked. “This, though? I thought you were done with big magics, Kaoru.”

“I was,” he answered. “Then you attacked Kyouya.”

René gasped mockingly. “Oh, please, it’s not like I killed him or anything. Still. I didn’t think you still had it in you, stopping time like this.”

“Don’t judge a Hitachiin by their looks,” Kaoru replied. His tone was light, as was René’s, but they both knew that the other was only pretending to be calm. “Well?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to finish me off, René?” Cautiously, he reached inside himself for his power, knowing that he only had one chance.

One chance to settle their old feud. 

One chance to end this, once and for all.

“Finish you off?” René hissed. “No, no, Kaoru, I want more than your death. I want you to suffer, the way I did-- the way she did.”

“I didn’t kill Haruhi,” Kaoru interrupted. “Nobody did, René, and you know that. Nobody could have stopped it.”

“You could have!” the blonde snapped. His rage was building, and his control over his power was simultaneously breaking down; waves of shimmering silver light bubbled up around him, beginning to grow brighter and larger with each shouted word. “You could have saved her, Kaoru, and instead, you ran away, just like you ALWAYS do!”

With a small bit of magic, Kaoru created a barrier around the two, hoping to protect the town from whatever damage they may create. He was out of practice; the barrier took longer to construct than he had expected, and maintaining it on top of the time spell was putting a drain on what magic he was able to access now, when he was so weak.

It was not going to be an easy battle. René’s anger would only amplify his abilities, and he was a genius when it came to combat magic. Kaoru was a healer, putting him at a large disadvantage. But that rage also slowed him down, inhibiting his thought process, and, hopefully, opening up windows for Kaoru to take advantage of.

He needed to win. If he didn’t, there was no telling what René would do-- in the best case scenario, Kaoru’s would be the only death. Worst case, the entire country could be wiped out.

And besides, he’d like to hear the sound Kyouya’s laugh again.

\---

Kyouya was close to the edge of town when a loud crack sounded throughout the air, shaking the buildings and echoing relentlessly. He was forced to stop, covering his ears and wondering just what on earth Kaoru was doing now, or if this was even his doing. 

Except that he couldn’t think about what was happening or if his guards or brothers were alright. He just needed to get to Kaoru.

If Kaoru could heal him, then he could heal his father, too. He had to.

When he finally reached the road out of town, he could do naught but stop and stare. Kaoru was on the ground, propped up against a cherry blossom tree that was in full bloom, even though it was months too late for it to be flowering. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, but his bare chest was covered in lacerations that were slowly dripping with blood. As if the entire scenario was not strange enough, despite his thin, malnourished appearance, he had more color to his complexion and looked healthier than he had in weeks.

Kyouya had so many questions. Now was not the time to talk, however-- Yoshio probably did not have that long.

“Kyouya?”

Kaoru’s voice was little more than a whisper. He was looking up through his lashes, his amber eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“You healed me,” Kyouya said. Kaoru stiffened; he searched Kyouya’s gaze for a moment, his expression wary, before he nodded. “And my father? Will you heal him?”

“I don’t know,” Kaoru whispered. “Not like that,” he added hastily, seeing the color drain from Kyouya’s face. “I don’t know if I can-- oh, Kyou, it’s been a long time since he was struck, and depending on where he was hit and, and how much blood he’s lost...”

“Will you try?”

Another pause. Another nod. 

“I’m warning you, though,” Kaoru said solemnly as Kyouya helped him to his feet. “There is nothing I can do if he’s gone.”

“I would assume as much.”

The two walked back into town in silence, Kaoru leaning heavily on Kyouya’s arm.

\---

Kaoru’s breath caught in his throat as Kyouya led him up to the dais. He rubbed at his wrists, at the angry red sores left by the chains and the rope, his anxiety and exhaustion taking over his mind. 

He was drained. Mentally, physically, and magically. What if he couldn’t heal the king? What if he had been too late with the time spell, and the man was already dead? How would Kyouya look at him then? With the same anger that René had? Or with the grief that had filled his dark eyes everytime the two met after Kaoru’s arrest?

He shook his head. Pushing aside the dull, throbbing pain in his thigh and the needling pains across his chest, he knelt next to Kyouya’s father, pushing the man’s tunic and shirt aside to look at the wound. René’s magic lingered, holding the wound open and stopping the blood from clotting, but otherwise it appeared to have missed anything vital.

“He should be alright.”

At his side, Kyouya breathed out a heavy sigh. The prince’s hand drifted to Kaoru’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. 

He took a deep breath and reached for his power. It was faint now, flickering weakly within him, and although that was mildly disconcerting, it was a welcome change from the way it had been overflowing before today. With another deep breath, he began to work, ignoring the blossoming pain in his lower abdomen. After he was finished, he sat back with a sigh.

“He will recover,” he said finally. “He will need rest, to recover some of the blood he lost, but he should be alright.” 

“And the townspeople?”

Kyouya’s voice trembled. Looking up at him, Kaoru could see that his former lover’s skin had a waxy look to it. He was frightened, but whether he was scared of Kaoru, or of losing his father, or both, Kaoru could not tell.

Well. That was to be expected, he supposed. It had been a long day, a long few weeks, for both of them.

“All at once?” he asked quietly. “Or would you like a moment with your family first?”

Kyouya paused. “On second thought, just my family, then. If you can, that is-- Kaoru, you look terrible.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Kaoru mused. “You do care. I can manage a little while, at least.” A moment passed, and then Yoshio, Yuuichi, and Akito began to move again, and Kaoru slumped back against Kyouya’s legs. After realizing that their father was not, in fact, dying, Kyouya’s brothers finally noticed their little brother and who was next to him. As the flurry of questioning began, Kyouya sat gingerly on the edge of the platform, moving Kaoru so that he was nestled against the prince’s side.

With a small smile, Kaoru allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Until, that is, a ring-clad hand nudged his cheek.

“Kaoru, the townspeople.”

“If you insist,” he sighed. With a lazy wave of his hand, the spell was lifted at last, and the townspeople and guards began to look around in confusion. 

This time, when he fell asleep, nobody woke him.

\---

He woke in a plush bed, his head resting upon a fluffy pillow and his body covered in heavy but warm woolen blankets. It was, admittedly, a welcome change from his prison cell-- or, at least, it was until he tried to sit up and found his wrists chained to two of the bed’s posts.

It seemed that saving the king’s life had not cleared him of all charges.

“How do you feel?”

His eyes flickered to Kyouya, who sat in an armchair in the corner. The prince set down the book he was holding and stood, although he did not step closer. 

Probably for the better. Kaoru wasn’t in the best mood, although waking up chained to a bed does tend to do that to a person. Pushing himself as far upright as he could, he glared at the prince, his temper flaring. 

“I suppose I should admit that I could get out of these whenever I please,” he said coldly, lifting one hand up to display the shackle adorning it. “Or do I need to fear for another attempted execution?”

“Kaoru, please. It was the only way Akito would agree to let me bring you into the palace.”

“And that makes it all better?” he demanded. “Kyouya, I’m not expecting you to be hopping into bed with me, but for the love of whatever you consider holy, I’m tired of being locked up!”

Silence. Heaving a breathy sigh, Kaoru flopped onto his back, staring up at the canopy of the bed and blinking back tears. 

“‘M sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“I am sorry, as well,” Kyouya said softly. “For how I have treated you these past few days.”

“For what part?” Kaoru laughed. “Having me arrested? Almost letting me be burned alive? Chaining me up like some kind of animal?”

“All of it.”

He turned his head to stare as Kyouya crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. The two watched each other for a moment, Kaoru’s gaze questioning, Kyouya’s somber. A ring-clad hand lifted his own, and with a quiet click, the manacle fell off. The prince leaned across him to unlock his other hand before sitting back and watching quietly.

“Why?” Kaoru asked.

“Because you don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“That’s not completely true,” he said quietly. “At the end of the day, my existence violates every law of this kingdom. I used magic on you and the king.”

“To heal,” Kyouya said. “Not to harm.”

“So now you believe that?” Kaoru scoffed. “You don’t think I used a, a love spell,” he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Even if I knew how, which I do not, only a fool would try. They always backfire, they always harm the caster, they always corrupt their magic and their body--”

“You lost a lot of weight, Kaoru, and it began around when you and I became.. involved,” Kyouya interrupted. When Kaoru scowled at him, Kyouya only raised an eyebrow. After a moment of staring, Kaoru’s shoulders slumped.

“That was different,” he said quietly. “I-- I did that to myself.”

“Continue talking, Kaoru. You are not foolish, you must realize how this looks.”

“I didn’t use any magic,” Kaoru growled. “For eleven months, I did not cast a single spell, not to weave, not to draw water from the well, not even to swat at a gnat. And when you don’t use any magic, it-- it boils over. Starts eating away at your body. It’s like starving-- you lose your fat, and then your muscle, and after a while, there’s nothing left but dust.”

“Is that what happened to Tamaki?” Kyouya asked. Kaoru shook his head slowly.

“René might have been grief-stricken and mad, but he would never. We’re supposed to know better. It’s suicide, that’s what it is-- long, painful suicide.”

“Then why would you do that to yourself?” Kyouya demanded. The prince’s hands were clenched into fists, and Kaoru had no doubt that the rings he wore were digging into his skin. 

“I…” he paused, making sure his former lover was looking him in the eye. “I thought that it would be a good way to go.”

“A good way to go,” Kyouya drawled, the ire clear in his voice.

“I’m old, Kyou.” Kaoru tried to think, to put his thoughts into words, to find a way to explain why he had done what he did. Why he had given up. “I.. I’m really old. My family is long dead, and now that René’s gone, I’m the only one left. The only hashein. The only witch. So, after you confessed, I realized that.. That if I was going to go, and I wanted to at the time, I really did, at least…”

He stopped talking as a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away, eyes still fixed on Kyouya’s.

“At least then, when I died, I wouldn’t be alone.”

\---

“Kaoru?”

He opened his eyes with a yawn. Rolling out a stiff wrist, he peered up at Hikaru, the (slightly) older Hitachiin hovering over him anxiously.

“You were crying in your sleep,” his brother whispered anxiously.

“Oh,” Kaoru hummed. “Yeah, I dreamed that tono tried to burn me at the stake. Why’re you whispering, anyway?”

“Look down,” Hikaru whispered, eyes wide. Wondering when his twin had lost his mind, Kaoru obliged, only to freeze.

His hand was woven into Kyouya-senpai’s glossy black hair. The upperclassman was sound asleep, glasses nowhere to be seen, head pillowed on Kaoru’s leg.

He looked younger when he was asleep. Less terrifying, too.

“Uh, well… we could… we could roll him onto the ground and make a run for it before he realizes what happened,” Hikaru offered. 

Kaoru snorted.

“Nah,” he sighed. “You go, it’s getting late. I finished all my homework before club hours anyway. I’ll call for a car when he wakes up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah… I don’t really feel like dying today.”


End file.
